Accused
by Katief20
Summary: A violent encounter in a dark alleyway leaves a suspect dead and Nick Rowan under suspicion - can his colleagues prove his innocence?
1. Chapter 1

Mr Jackson of No.9 Holroyd Row, Ashfordly was about to get into bed. He slept at the back of the house having done this since his wife had died in the front bedroom about six months previous.

It was eleven o'clock and he pulled his curtains closed – then stopped. His house backed onto the rear of the houses in Grove Terrace. The houses were separated at the back by an alleyway or ginnel. This ginnel ran the length of the rows of houses forming a T junction at either end. This T junction allowed you access back onto either Holroyd Row or Grove Terrace.

Mr Jackson knew the elderly lady who had lived on Grove Terrace in the house directly opposite his had died recently. So recently in fact that her house had not been cleared yet. He also knew no one was living in it. Yet as he stood and watched he could see a tiny, moving beam of light in the little house opposite. A torch light he thought. Flicking across the kitchen, then again in the bedroom upstairs.

He knew it wasn't right and he went downstairs to phone the police. Then he went back upstairs to his bedroom again to watch for any more movement. Now he noticed that at the back of the house the sash window had been lifted and was ajar. No doubt left like that so the intruders could make a fast getaway he thought grimly.

He went back downstairs as there was a loud, authoritative knock on his front door. Police, he thought relieved. He opened the door.

Nick Rowan and Phil Bellamy had got the call and were standing on Mr Jackson's step. "You phoned the police, sir?" Nick said to him.

"Aye. Come up here and see what I'm seein'. Think someone's broken into t' house opposite. Its empty, see. The old lady what lived there, she died a few days ago, like."

The two officers glanced at each other then did as they were told and followed Mr Jackson upstairs. Nick glanced at Phil again as they saw the tiny dancing beams of light; the open sash.

"Right, sir, you can leave this to us," Nick said. "Can we use your back door, sir?"

Mr Jackson went down with them and let them out through his back door. The timing was spectacular. As Nick and Phil let themselves out through Mr Jackson's back gate the intruders (for in fact there were two, not one) were coming out through the rear gate opposite. They were dressed in dark clothing, faces half covered by turning up their coats, and one was carrying a small bag.

As Phil shouted, "Police, stop!" the one carrying the bag dropped it and shouted, "Coppers, leg it!"

They turned to run down the ginnel but one lad slipped and fell. Nick jumped over him shouting, "Get him Phil, I'll get the other one!" for the other intruder was tearing off down the ginnel.

Phil pounced on the first lad, who actually gave him no trouble at all, handcuffed and arrested him. Mr Jackson had come out into his yard, watching.

"Can I bring him through your house Mr Jackson to get to the car?" Phil asked.

"Aye, of course," the man said standing well back. "Shall I get that bag they've dropped?"

"No thank you sir, if you can leave it there, we'll get it in a minute," Phil said glancing over his shoulder but he could not see Nick or his quarry – the lad had got to the end of the ginnel and turned right as if to run onto Holroyd Row.

Nick had seen the youth turn right and fully expected he would keep running onto the Row. So he did not slacken his pace and hurtled round the corner.

The lad had not kept running. He had pulled up and was flush against the wall. He stuck out a booted foot and as Nick charged round the corner, he tripped the young constable very efficiently. Nick went down sprawling in the alley losing the protection of his police helmet as he went down.

Mrs Grant lived at No.1 Holroyd Row and her gate faced into the side alley not into the rear ginnel. She was in her early eighties and lived alone. She was out in her yard looking for her cat. She heard running feet on the other side of her wall. She tensed but bravely opened her gate just a fraction. She watched, invisible to anyone.

Nick Rowan had gone sprawling a few feet from her gate and had winded himself. All he saw was the lad he had been chasing put the boot in.

The first kick landed on the side of his head and instinctively Nick got his arm over his head and tucked his head down. He brought his knees up to protect his belly. The second two kicks landed in his chest. There was no respite no chance to get up. He had to take his chance. As the youth brought his boot down again Nick grabbed the lad's foot with one hand. He twisted it and the lad lost his balance. He went down hard and hit his head against the wall with a sickening crack. He slumped down heavily. And after that he did not move.

Mrs Grant watched, terrified, as she saw the policeman slowly get to his feet. He went to the lad's body and put two fingers on his neck. Then he straightened, stepped back and slid down the wall opposite to the lad's body sinking his head in his hands.

Mrs Grant quietly, silently, shut her gate and went back to her house. With shaking hands she locked her door and drew on the bolts. The cat was left out all night. She never gave him another thought.


	2. Chapter 2

Phil took his captive back to the car in Holroyd Row and cursorily searched him which revealed nothing not even a wallet or any money. Phil handcuffed one of the youth's wrists to the car steering wheel.

"You going to tell me your name?" he asked the lad but the youth just smirked at him. "Ain't doing your job for you Copper!" was the response.

Phil sighed. "Right, well, be back in a minute." He jogged off down Holroyd Row anxious to find Nick now. He slowed to a walk as he reached the ginnel but merely glanced up it not expecting Nick would be there. Then he stopped, his heart beginning to thud.

He saw Nick sitting quietly in the ginnel and he saw the youth he had been chasing lying very still.

"Nick?" Phil walked slowly towards him. He glanced at Nick, white faced, then down at the lad. He lifted the boy's wrist to take a pulse.

"He's dead Phil." Nick's voice was completely flat.

Phil stared at the boy's face. It was heavily bruised with abrasions. He swallowed hard. Turning back to Nick he said, "What –"

"He got me down on the floor. Put the boot in. I grabbed his foot to stop him. He fell and hit his head against the wall." Nick paused. "He didn't get up Phil."

Phil got his wits together. He slipped out of his greatcoat and put it over the lad's immobile body. Then he turned to Nick. "Where are you hurt?"

"Just my ribs...its okay."

"All right. Can you walk to the car do you think?"

Nick nodded and carefully got up with Phil's assistance. They walked out of the ginnel together back towards the car.

The other boy jeered when he saw them. "Got a kicking did ya copper?" he mocked.

"Shut it!" Phil's tone was so hard the boy shrank back muttering something about pigs. The two policemen took no notice.

Phil indicated Nick should sit down on the pavement leaning against someone's garden wall. Now Phil's next dilemma. They desperately needed help but he did not want the boy they had in custody to know what had happened. That ruled out using the radio on the car.

He went back to Mr Jackson's house.

"Mr Jackson, may I use your phone?" he said. "I need to make a call - it's a private call."

"Aye. Phone's in t'hall here. I'll go out in t'back if you like. I won't hear owt there." The man was puzzled but credit to him he did not ask questions.

Oscar Blaketon was first to arrive truly shocked by young Bellamy's call. In all his years of service this was a new situation for the sergeant to deal with.

Phil was sitting with Nick; the youth handcuffed to the steering wheel of their car was beginning to get restless now and asking what was going on. Blaketon ignored him and went up to his two constables. He did not speak to Nick initially simply saying, "Bellamy, over here."

Phil went over to his Sergeant.

"What happened?"

"We collided with two lads in the alleyway behind the house they had broken into; I grabbed one, the other took off and Nick went after him. I handcuffed mine to the car and then went to look for Nick and found him in the alleyway that runs back to the street. The lad he was chasing was lying near him. I checked but there was no pulse Sarge."

"And did you ask Rowan what happened?"

"Yeah. Nick said the lad tripped him as he turned into the side alleyway and then put t'boot in. To stop him Nick grabbed t'lad's foot and the lad fell and smashed his head against the wall." But Phil did not look at his Sergeant.

"Well?" Blaketon spoke quietly. "Best I know, lad."

"The lad Nick was chasing, his face is a right mess Sarge. All bruised, like."

He heard his Sergeant take a deep breath but he simply said, "Go and wait in my car lad. We need to keep you and Nick away from one another. You know why."

Phil dejectedly looked at Nick, then miserably walked over to his Sergeant's car and sat in the passenger seat, sideways, feet on the pavement, head down.

Now Blaketon walked over to Nick and put a hand on his shoulder. "Are you hurt, lad?" he asked.

"My ribs hurt a bit Sarge," Nick replied.

"Aye. We'll get yer looked over."

"Sarge I –"

"Its all right. Young Phil told me what you've told him. Best we don't talk any more about it now all right?" Blaketon looked across at the youth in custody who was shouting now demanding that someone tell him what was going on. "I'll come back to you in a minute, lad," he told his Constable. "Don't worry, we'll get this straightened out."

The youth fell silent as Blaketon strode over to him."You can start," he said, "by telling me your name. Believe me lad, the time for playing silly buggers has gone."

The lad looked frightened now, the cockiness gone. "Me name's Johnny," he said, "Johnny Brogan."

"And your mate?"

"Its me cousin. Derek Brogan. Look, what's up? Is our Derek hurt, like?"

Blaketon had looked up sharply at the name – the Brogans had a bit of reputation round about. But he did not answer the boy's question merely stepping away as another car pulled up by the kerb. "Good evening Inspector," he greeted Inspector Webb who looked tense and grim faced.

Behind him another car pulled in. " That's Detective Inspector Wright," Webb said briefly.

Wright was accompanied by another man whom he introduced as Detective Sergeant Mills.

"Give me the brief details, Sergeant," he said brusquely.

"My constables Rowan, over there, and Bellamy, in my car, were trying to arrest two youths breaking into a house in Grove Terrace. Bellamy got one lad, Johnny Brogan, but the second one, Derek Brogan, a cousin of Johnny by the way, took off down the ginnel. Young Rowan went off after him. Bellamy cuffed Johnny to the car and went off to see what was what – and found Rowan sitting in the ginnel next to the body of Derek Brogan. Brogan, Rowan told Bellamy, tripped Rowan and put the boot in and to save himself, Rowan grabbed Brogan's foot and the lad fell, hitting his head against the wall in the ginnel. He didn't get up again."

"Right." Wright paused. "Doctor?"

"On way, sir," said Webb.

"I'd best take a look," Wright said.

He went off with Blaketon and Webb. Mills was left behind.

Silently Blaketon peeled back the greatcoat covering the body. The men glanced at each other sharply when they saw the bruising on the lad's face.

"I want Forensics here an' all," Wright said tersely. "And I need more back up down here." He glanced up at the houses. "Possible someone saw something. We need door to door – I don't care if it's the middle of the night." He looked back down at the boy. "How old? Eighteen maybe? Hell of a price to pay for nicking a few trinkets."

"Sir. Nick Rowan – ," began Blaketon.

Wright cut him off. "I appreciate you might want to stand up for your lad, Sargeant," he said, "but I can only go off the facts in front of me. And right now, this lad looks like he's had a bloody good pasting."


	3. Chapter 3

It was decided it was simply not appropriate to tell Johnny Brogan of what had happened to his cousin at the scene. Three more CID officers had arrived and Wright despatched two to take Brogan to the police station at Whitby. Brogan was quiet and seemed to sense something very serious had happened. He had given up asking what as he had been told firmly he would be told at the station.

"Right." DI Wright looked at the third CID officer. "I want you to take young Bellamy to Ashfordly station." He looked at Oscar Blaketon. "Can he and Rowan be kept apart? We have to do this by the book."

"Aye. You can use the interview room for Phil and Nick can go in my office."

"Wright nodded and looked at Mills. "You take my car and take Rowan back to Ashfordly. We need his uniform for forensics so arrange some clothing for him and also arrange a doctor. He doesn't look badly hurt to me but we should get him checked out."

Nick looked up warily as Mills approached. "You're coming with me back to Ashfordly," he was told. "Come on."

Nick got up carefully, still feeling some pain, and looked across at Blaketon. Mills shook his head. "You can't speak to him," he said. "You need to come with me. You're in a bit of bother, son."

Nick glanced sharply at him. "I've done nothing wrong."

"We'll see about that. Now come on, move yourself."

Nick gave in and quietly followed him to Wright's car. He had wanted to speak to Blaketon, get some reassurance, but he sensed the Sergeant's hands were tied.

Phil was taken back to Ashfordly first. Alf Ventress was in the duty room with a number of uniforms who had been drafted in and though they looked sympathetically at Phil they were not given chance to speak to him. He was taken straight into the interview room.

Nick Rowan was next in and the same procedure was followed only he was taken straight into Blaketon's office.

Nick had been feeling more and more uneasy during the journey down to the station and Mills' manner was not improving matters. Mills had seemed to make his own mind up about what might have happened in that ginnel and he was not coming down in Nick's favour.

He told Nick to sit down on a chair in Blaketon's office. "We need some spare clothes for yer," he told Nick.

"I keep some here," Nick said. "In my locker."

"Right." Mills left and spoke tersely to Alf who was hovering outside. "Rowan tells me he has some spare clothes in his locker. Can you get those for me. Also, there is a doctor on his way to look at him. When he gets here, I want him shown straight in."

"Yes Sarge." Alf cleared his throat. "Look can the lad have a cup of tea? He looked ter me like he needed one."

Mills hesitated then nodded.

Nick looked up as Mills came back with a mug of tea, evidence bags and the sweater/ jogging trousers trainers Nick kept at the station for after shift rugby practice. "One of your mates out there wanted you to have this," Mills said indicating the tea."Right, out of that uniform and get into these."

Self consciously Nick changed out of uniform into the spare clothing watching as Mills bagged his uniform and took it away. Silently Nick sipped the hot tea trying to ignore the pain in his ribs and the feeling of clawing unease.

Back at the scene Blaketon and Webb were approached by Wright who looked tense.

"Derek Brogan has the bruises and abrasions to his head we could see but he also has bruising and abrasions to his body," Wright said tersely. "We need the full PM of course but in the circumstances – and I'm sorry about this – I will be arresting PC Rowan."

"Look," Blaketon began, "given the lad's good character -"

"Sergeant." Wright held up his hand. "I have to play this by the book. I'm sorry."

Blaketon turned away miserably. Webb moved aside with him. "I'm sorry, Oscar," he said.

Blaketon shook his head. "There's summat not right wi' this," he said. "Nick Rowan wouldn't kick seven bells out of anyone. I'm sure of it."

"Well hopefully DI Wright will get to the bottom of it," Webb said. "Its possible we may turn up a witness as well who can back up Rowan's story."

The doctor who had come to examine Nick was perfunctory and brusque. He asked Nick to sit on the edge of Blaketon's desk. "Were you knocked out at all?" he asked.

"No."

The doctor shone a light in Nick's eyes, checked his pulse, listened to his heart and lungs, and examined his chest. Nick flinched as the doctor pressed on his ribs and the doctor asked him to breathe deeply in and out which caused Nick to flinch again and cough.

"Hmm. Bruising I would say. Nothing to worry about." The doctor said this to Mills rather than Nick. Mills nodded.

"Thanks Doc."

As the doctor left Mills said to Nick, "Seems the other guy came off worse, Rowan."

Nick was about to say something when they were interrupted by a knock on the door. Mills opened it and went through, closing the door behind him. Before the door shut, Nick heard Alf Ventress say to Mills, "DI Wright, Inspector Webb and Sergeant Blaketon are here."

Nick physically tensed. He heard voices outside the door but not what was said. Then the three superior officers came in with Mills who shut the door leaning against it. Nick noticed Blaketon hung back looking thoroughly shocked by developments. And Nick had the most sickening sense of what was going to happen.

Wright took charge calmly stepping forward and advising Nick he was being arrested on suspicion of murder and reading his rights.

Nick stared at him, stunned.

"No, it was an accident," he said slowly. "I just grabbed his foot to stop him –"

"Its best you say nothing more." Wright spoke firmly. "We're going to take you over to Scarborough,Rowan, for purposes of interview." He looked at Mills who stepped forward and took a pair of handcuffs from his pocket.

Nick roused himself a bit then, getting up from where he was sitting on Blaketon's desk, he said, "No. I'm not being dragged out of here in handcuffs. In front of everyone."

"We've cleared the duty room Nick." Webb spoke calmly. "There's no one out there. But I don't think the handcuffs are necessary – sir?"

Wright shook his head.

"Its procedure, sir," Mills muttered.

Wright glared at him. "Take PC Rowan out to the car Mills," he snapped. "I hardly think he's going to do a runner do you?"

Mills shoved the handcuffs away and reached for Nick's arm. Nick looked across at Blaketon. "Sarge - you know I wouldn't -"

"Nick lad." Blaketon knew he could do nothing and he felt appallingly helpless. "Say nowt for now. Wait until you've had a bit of advice. Got a solicitor."

"Come on," Mills said impatiently.

Numbly, because he had to, Nick went with him.

After the CID officers had gone, with Nick, Blaketon sat down at his desk and put his head in his hands. "Oscar," Webb began but was interrupted as the door was opened and Alf Ventress came in.

"For God's sake Constable!" Webb snapped.

"I'm sorry sir." Alf did not sound sorry. "But t'lads are a bit upset wi' what's going on and –"

"You all deserve an explanation." Oscar sat up in his chair. Looking at Webb he said, "I'm sorry sir. You need to speak to them. I'm going out."

"Out Sergeant?"

"To speak to Nick Rowan's wife. She deserves an explanation too. Except I'm not sure I can explain any of this."


	4. Chapter 4

At the police house Oscar Blaketon made Kate a hot cup of tea. She was clearly as shocked as he was.

"However it looks, Sergeant," she said trying to speak calmly, "I know Nick's done nothing wrong."

"I like ter think I know the lads I have under me," he said slowly, sitting down opposite her at the kitchen table. "And I admit I've had lads in the past where, if summat like this had happened, I would have had me doubts." He paused. "But I don't have doubts about Nick. I'm sure he's done nowt wrong. But I can't prove it, Dr Rowan. And at the minute, well –"

"I don't care how it looks," she said. "I know what I believe."

"If I could do anything, find a witness to the whole thing, prove what I know – that Nick is telling the truth, I would," Blaketon said wearily. "Might well be we do find a witness yet. Someone might have seen something.".

Kate looked at him. "Thank you," she said simply, " for standing by Nick. He's going to need all the support we can give him." She swallowed. "When can I see him?"

Oscar Blaketon shook his head. "I'm sorry," he said. "I don't know. They – they want to do the PM at dawn so they'll interview him after they know the findings of that. And it might be that once they get those they'll let Nick go right away."

"But I can't put too much hope on that, can I?" Kate asked. "That's what you're saying?"

Oscar looked at her, the answer on his face.

Nick had been shocked to be formally processed and put in a cell for the night. He sat huddled on the cold bench an untouched cup of tea next to him. He felt detached as if this was happening to someone else.

How had a routine shift gone so wrong? He just couldn't work out how Brogan had died. Admittedly he had hit his head against the wall when he lost his balance but not hard enough to kill him, was it?

In any event clearly Nick's version of events wasn't being believed. It was obvious Wright thought the bruises on the boy's body were down to Nick – yet that couldn't be right. The only contact Nick had had with him was to grab his leg causing him to lose his balance. However he had gained those bruises – it couldn't have come out of his run in with Nick.

Wearily Nick shook his head. He had no way of proving his story with no witness.

Of course old Mrs Grant had seen the whole thing. She was sitting up in her bed drinking hot chocolate and trying to stop shaking. She had heard the commotion outside, lots of police. Some one had knocked on her door but gone away when she didn't answer. She knew the right thing was to tell someone what she saw. But she was so frightened….

Dawn broke.

Oscar Blaketon sat at his desk at Ashfordly, his head in his hands. A knock on the door. Alf Ventress came in with a cup of tea.

"Have a brew Sarge then go home for a bit of rest eh?" he suggested.

"Aye. I just want to wait until we get the results of the post mortem." Blaketon leaned back in his chair. "What do you reckon Alf?"

Alf took the liberty of sitting down in the chair in front of Blaketon's desk.

"Nick Rowan's not done owt wrong Sarge. I'd lay me career on it. I know this Brogan lad were full of bruises and that but I can't believe that's Nick's doing."

"That's what I believe an' all. I think it happened just as Nick told us. But how do we prove it Alf? No one saw anything and Wright is convinced Nick gave Brogan a pasting. I think someone did but I don't reckon it were Nick."

"What about t'other lad, wi' Brogan? His cousin."

"Denies knowing owt about how Brogan got his bruises." Blaketon sighed. "It's a mess Alf."

The duty solicitor had come into Nick's cell to speak to him.

"They're going to interview you shortly," he told Nick. "Now, the PM results have come back and it shows that Derek Brogan died from a ruptured brain aneurysm." He paused. "If events happened as you say the rupture probably occurred when his head hit the wall. However. There were multiple abrasions and bruises to his head and body consistent with kicking or being struck."

"I don't know how he came by those."

"The case being made against you is that you repeatedly struck Brogan and continued to do so when he was on the ground and this sustained attack caused the aneurysm – which he probably didn't even know he had – to rupture."

Nick shook his head. "That's not what happened."

"Look Nick – I will do my best for you but, I have to ask you this. I need to know there is nothing at all you wish to disclose to me?"

Nick shook his head. "Nothing. I've told you exactly how it happened."

DI Wright was conducting the interview with Mills next to him. Nick, sitting opposite with the solicitor next to him eyed them both warily.

"Right, Nick. If you can start by talking us through what happened last night. Starting from when you and PC Bellamy arrived at the address in Holroyd Row." Wright's tone was conversational, Nick was not fooled.

"Mr Jackson at Holroyd Row had noticed torchlight in the house opposite to his, at the back. He also saw a sash window was open. He knew that house was empty so he phoned it in as a suspected break in. Phil Bellamy and I went through his house to the ginnel at the rear. As we got to Mr Jackson's gate, two lads were coming out of the house opposite. I mean, they were coming out of the gate." Nick paused. "They were wearing dark clothing, carried a small bag and when they saw us they dropped what they were carrying to make a run for it."

"What happened then?"

"One of the lads went sprawling. Phil grabbed him, I went after the other one."

"Why was that? Why did you not grab the lad who fell? Was there communication between you and PC Bellamy?"

Nick looked down at the table then said, "I jumped over the lad on the floor and shouted to Phil Bellamy to get him. I told Phil I would go after the other lad."

"What was the reason for that decision. Why did you not let Phil Bellamy go after the youth who was running away?"

Nick shook his head. "There wasn't a reason as such. It was just how it happened."

"Hmmm. So you ran after the youth fleeing from the scene. But before that, going back to what you said, you said you saw these two youths coming out of the gate. Did you see them in the house? Coming out of the house?"

"Well, no, but we –" Nick paused.

"Assumed?" said Wright helpfully.

"With respect," said the solicitor, "In all the circumstances a perfectly reasonable assumption to make."

"Yes." Wright looked back at Nick. "Picking the thread up again you chased this youth – who you assumed was fleeing a burglary – what happened then?"

"The lad ran down the ginnel and round the corner as if to run into Holroyd Row. I ran round the corner after him but he had stopped running – he was against the wall and tripped me as I came around the corner."

"Strange thing to do wouldn't you say?" Wright asked. "Surely it would have made more sense for him to keep running."

"I don't know what he was thinking," Nick said in low tones.

"So. You say he tripped you, you fell to the ground. What then?"

"I lost my helmet when I fell. He kicked me in the head," Nick said wearily. "I put my arm up to protect my head and got my knees up to protect my belly. He kicked me in my chest, twice. I knew he was going to do it again and as he brought his boot down I grabbed his foot and twisted it to make him lose his balance. He fell backwards and hit his head against the wall of the ginnel. And then he just didn't get up?"

"What did you do?"

"I felt for a pulse but there wasn't anything. I – I didn't know what to do. I sat down in the ginnel with him and stayed there until Phil Bellamy found us."

"You didn't think about first aid - trying to get him breathing for example?"

"I thought it was beyond that,sir," Nick said simply.

"Hmmm." Wright opened the file in front of him looking at the photographs in it.

"Derek Brogan, the deceased had a number of bruises to his head and body. Consistent with repeated blows or kicks. The bruising was fresh – in fact some of it was still emerging after death." He looked up at Nick. "Can you explain that?"

"However he got those bruises – that was nothing to do with what happened," Nick said solidly. "The only injury was when he hit his head on the ginnel wall. I didn't get chance to get into a struggle with him – I was trying to protect myself, sir."

"Protect yourself?"

"I mean, I was on the floor trying to protect myself from the kicking I was getting."

Wright sighed and sat back in his chair. "One couldn't blame you, you know Rowan," he said. "You chase some two bit thief down a dark alley, you get round the corner and, well, did he fall? Slip? Either way you were onto him. And perhaps you just thought, right, son, lets teach you a bit of a lesson whilst we're here. Only it got a bit out of hand?"

"You have no substantiation for that allegation," the solicitor put in. "And your scenario ignores the injuries PC Rowan himself sustained."

"Minor bruising, as I understand. Hardly anything of note." Wright sighed. "It would seem that out of this altercation, Derek Brogan came off somewhat the worst."


	5. Chapter 5

Kate and Phil Bellamy were having a cup of tea at the Police House. "Do you think they'll let him go Phil?" she asked.

"I don't know Kate. They might. Whilst they make further enquiries like."

"He wouldn't have given that lad a hiding, Phil."

"Oh Kate. We know." Phil swallowed. "I mean I had a shock like when I saw those bruises on the lad but thinking clearly, it was never Nick who put those on him. I reckon he got involved in some bother earlier and that's how he got those bruises. But the problem is-"

Kate sighed. "We can't prove it. I just want him home Phil, with me. I'm worried about him."

She would have had cause to worry if she'd seen how the interview was progressing.

"You're an experienced officer, Rowan." Wright paused. "Yet you ran round that corner and didn't even think the lad might have waited there to trap you?"

"No sir. I read it wrong. I thought he was going to keep on running."

"Seems odd to me. That you could misread the situation? With your experience?"

"I'm not sure the situation was misread," the solicitor said. "And in any event the purpose of this line of questioning is?"

"The explanation of events, Rowan, as you describe them, doesn't tally. It doesn't tally with how Derek Brogan went round the corner alive and a few minutes later lay dead. Nor do his injuries as sustained tally with what you say happened, Rowan. His cousin verifies that Brogan was fit and well and unbruised prior to your altercation with him."

"He could be lying," Nick replied.

"Could be lying?"

"I mean, he is lying. Sir."

"Why? He'd want justice for his cousin wouldn't he? If he was putting the blame on you so to speak well that means the person who could be responsible for his cousin's death walking free. It doesn't add up, does it?" Wright paused. "In any event I have here PC Bellamy's statement. In it he says that before the chase he did not notice any bruising on the face of the deceased."

The solicitor interjected. "That's perfectly understandable in a dark alleyway where PC Bellamy could have only grabbed a very fleeting glimpse of the deceased."

"I have told you what happened," Nick said wearily. I was on the floor with Brogan putting in the boot. I was in trouble. I saw the chance, I grabbed his foot and twisted it to make him lose his balance. That was the only time I put a hand on him. If you could call it that."

"Look, Rowan, lets put it on the table shall we? You chased Brogan round that corner and you caught up with him and you got him down on the floor. There was contact he laid a couple of kicks on you and you thought, right, lets give you some of what you're dishing out. You know people, a jury, will have sympathy for you. In that scenario."

"You have no evidence for this," the solicitor said.

"No? I have a lad who was fit enough to run away from a copper, a lad with no marks, no bruises on him at all as verified by his accomplice, nor was any bruising noticed by PC Bellamy, who a few minutes later was involved in an altercation with that copper, and came out of it lying dead with signs of having been beaten to an inch of his life. Physical signs." Wright tapped the photos. He sat back looking at Nick. "Come on lad, why drag this out?"

"There's nothing to drag out. I've told you what happened. It was so dark in that alleyway its no wonder Phil didn't notice any bruising. However he came by those bruises well it wasn't down to me."

"I'm terminating this interview now," Wright said, looking at Mills. "You can have a short break Rowan – I want to speak to the DCI."

Nick put his head in his hands as they left the room.

"Are you all right?" the solicitor asked.

"They're thinking of bringing charges," Nick said heavily.

Inspector Webb walked slowly into Ashfordly Station. He knew what he was about to say was not going to go down well.

Alf and Phil were in the duty room; they stood as the Inspector came in. "Is Sergeant Blaketon in his office?" asked the Inspector.

"I'm here, sir," Blaketon said appearing from his office.

"Perhaps we could speak, Sergeant?"

"I think the conversation we are about to have should be conducted in front of PC Rowan's colleagues, sir, with respect. They have every right to know."

The Inspector gave a brief nod. "Then it is my reluctant duty to inform you that PC Nick Rowan has been charged with the manslaughter of Derek Brogan and will appear at the magistrates court in the morning."

Phil Bellamy sat down at his desk with a thud. "No, this ain't right." He looked at Blaketon. "Sarge? We have ter do summat."

"Aye. Tell Kate Rowan. She needs to hear from me." Blaketon looked at the Inspector. "And when I've done that, sir, we'll talk about what we can do for Nick Rowan."

The Inspector stepped aside to let Blaketon past. He caught the eye of Alf Ventress.

"Bad do this, sir." Alf said. "A right bad do."


	6. Chapter 6

Nick was lying on a bench in his cell in Scarborough Police Station. He had a blanket over him – he was freezing cold.

He knew things were probably every bit as bad as they could be. He had been told an application for bail would be opposed. He knew the facts as presented to a jury did not look good.

He sat up as the cell door was unlocked and opened, it was the duty sergeant with a cup of tea.

"Brought yer a hot drink." The Sergeant put it next to Nick. He looked uneasy as if he simply did not know what to say. "I've brought you another blanket an' all. You look perished."

"Thanks, Sarge."

"Well. I'll leave you to it then."

"Sarge? I – no, it doesn't matter."

The man nodded and left the cell.

Kate was not in tears – it was too bad for that. She sat numbly, staring at Oscar Blaketon, trying to take in what he was telling her.

"I want to see him," she said finally.

"I'm sorry, Kate, its not possible at the moment." Blaketon's tone was very gentle.

"And you're saying at the hearing tomorrow they might remand him in custody?" Kate shook her head, angry now. "Nick is a good copper and anyone who knows him, knows he wouldn't have done this."

"I'm not giving up Kate. I'm going back to Ashfordly and – while I can't promise you owt – if there is anything we can do to sort this nonsense out, we're going to do it. Me and Ventress and even young Bellamy might be able to come up wi' summat."

Alf put a mug of tea in front of Phil Bellamy. The young constable looked shattered. Alf put a hand on his shoulder sympathetically.

"Did owt come out of the house to house?" Phil asked him. Alf had been on the phone to an "inside man" over at Scarborough.

"Nowt. Everyone were tucked up in their beds," Alf sighed. "Oh, except for the lady who lives at No 1 Holroyd. Not been able to speak ter her. But she goes away sometimes to stay with a friend. So that might be why."

"Even so." Oscar Blaketon had come in to the station unobserved "We need to keep looking for her. Until we know she's not there. Chances are she saw nowt. But we need to know. I'm going over there."

"Sarge!" Alf objected. "Its CID business."

"Its Nick Rowan. That makes it our business," Blaketon said fiercely. "I know my lads and I know that Nick Rowan's done nowt wrong and I'm going to prove it."

"And we'll help," Alf said determinedly. "I'm going out an' all. Mind the shop Phil."

"Where are you going?" Phil asked.

"Strikes me someone out there might know how that young tearway got those bruises. It wasn't Nick but someone gave them to him didn't they? If I ask questions in t'right places we might find t'answers."

The three of them looked silently at each other then Alf and Blaketon went on their way.

When Blaketon pulled up outside Mrs Grant's house a man was on the step alternately knocking and peering through the letter box and window. When he saw Blaketon the man went white. "Oh God, me Mam, I knew summat had happened to her!"

"Now, steady on sir, we don't know anything has happened to your mother," Blaketon said. "I'm just here to see if she witnessed an incident in the alleyway outside last night. We've been knocking on all the doors but we've not managed to speak to her yet and we need to, really."

"I can't understand it," the man said, "I'm Bryan Grant by the way. I've been phoning her and I couldn't' get hold of her and she's not with her friend who she stays with sometimes because I checked. I'm that worried. She had her locks changed you see and I've not got a key otherwise I'd be in there now."

"Wait a minute,sir." Blaketon looked round sharply as he heard the door being unlocked.

"Mum!" Bryan was shocked. His mother looked frail, and very ill as she stood trembling in the doorway. "Mum what's wrong?"

But she did not speak to him, simply saying to Oscar Blaketon, "I'm sorry. I should have phoned you shouldn't I? Only I was that frightened."

"Its all right Mrs Grant," the sergeant said, "lets have a cup of tea and a chat shall we and we'll get it all sorted out."

They got her seated by the fire and then made sure she had a warm drink. Blaketon was desperate to speak to her but wanted to make sure she was strong enough – it would not help anyone if she keeled over now.

When she seemed a bit stronger and was sat quietly with her son, Blaketon said, "Now then, as you've probably heard there was an incident last night. One of my lads had a run in with a youth who'd broken into a house in Grove Terrace, in the alleyway just by your garden gate last night."

"The one I heard on the radio?" Bryan spoke sharply. "The lad ended up dead, your constable has been charged with killing him."

"Why?" Mrs Grant looked at Blaketon in shock.

"The youth had a lot of bruises on him – its being alleged that my lad gave him a beating and that this led to his death – he had a brain aneurysm which ruptured you see." Blaketon sighed. "I don't believe my lad has done owt wrong Mrs Grant so if you did see anything – please –"

"I didn't want to get involved," the old lady said in low tones. "I knew it was bad but I just thought it would all get sorted out."

"What would Mum?" Bryan asked gently.

"I was out there, trying to get Whisky my cat to come in. I heard running feet in the alleyway so I opened my gate just a little bit."

"What did you see Mrs Grant?" Oscar hardly dared breathe."

"Well, I saw the policeman lying on the floor. And this other man he was kicking him – the policeman. He was just kicking him and I knew he was going to hurt him. But then the policeman managed to grab the man's foot to stop him. And the man fell and hit his head so hard. I was so frightened. I just crept back into the house. I'm that sorry, Sergeant."

"And PC Rowan never hit the lad, never threatened him at all?"

"He couldn't do. He was pinned down on the ground."

"Mrs Grant – thank you. Thank you so much." Blaketon swallowed in relief. "Now listen I do need to get another policeman to come and listen and take a statement from you. You see Nick Rowan is in a lot of trouble and this will clear his name so its very important."

"I've caused so much trouble.."

"Yes but we've sorted it out in the end haven't we?" Blaketon said gently taking her hand.


	7. Chapter 7

DI Wright dispatched Mills to get the statement from Mrs Grant; he dispatched another officer to speak to Johnny Brogan and then he headed to Ashfordly for an urgent meeting with Inspector Webb and Oscar Blaketon.

He was conscious of chilly stares from the constables in the duty room. He gritted his teeth and went down to Blaketon's office, striding in without knocking.

"Sir. Thank you for coming so promptly," Webb said politely.

"I have sent DS Mills to take a statement from Mrs –"

"Grant. Sir.

"Grant. Firstly though, Sergeant Blaketon, why were you in attendance at her home anyway? The investigation is being conducted by my team. We were aware Mrs Grant had not been spoken to during the door to door enquiry but we were led to believe she was away."

"With respect, sir, given the severity of the situation with PC Rowan, myself and my lads were not prepared to sit back and do nothing. Again, with respect, the situation with Mrs Grant wasn't confirmed. As to whether she was actually away or not."

"Sergeant Blaketon does have a point, sir," Webb said mildly. "In any event, his involvement has been to good effect, as it turns out. Now our only concern is getting the news to PC Rowan. And Sergeant Blaketon would like to do that himself, sir."

Just then there was a knock on the door. Alf Ventress came in.

"Messages, sarge," he said. "First off, Johnny Brogan has admitted just before breaking into the house at Grove Terrace Derek Brogan got into a run in with another lad over a lass. He's being picked up – goes by the name of Luke Jeffreys. Nasty bit of work he is by all accounts. Johnny Brogan lied about it because he's frightened of Jeffreys with good reason. Second, the pathologist reckons that the thumping Derek got off Jeffreys might have weakened the aneurysm and the second bang on the head when he fell against the alleyway wall finished the job but that's going to be a bit hard to prove."

"Either way Jeffreys will be good for the assault," Webb observed.

"And Johnny Brogan is good for wasting police time," Wright snapped.

"Well I'll leave that to you sir," Blaketon said politely. "Right now, I'm going to go and collect my constable and take him home. Sir."

Sergeant Harris at Scarborough had been forewarned but asked to say nothing to Nick. He understood. If one of his lads had been in that position he would have wanted to speak to himself.

When Oscar Blaketon came in with Inspector Webb, Harris came to greet them. "I've not said owt to him Oscar," he said. "I'm glad you got it all sorted out. Your lad is in No.3." He handed him the keys.

Blaketon unlocked the cell door and went in. Nick was lying down under his blankets, he glanced over at his Sergeant but did not sit up.

"Whatever strings you've pulled to get in here - you shouldn't have done this Sarge. Its not worth risking your job over," Nick said flatly.

"I'm risking nothing. Come on, sit yourself up."

Nick did as he was told eyeing Blaketon warily.

"Charges have been dropped, lad. We found a witness."

"There wasn't a witness."

"Aye. So it seemed. Only one person had been missed off on t' house to house. It were thought she were away. But I went round on t'off chance and lady was home. I spoke to her. She's in her eighties, nervy. She lives at 1 Holroyd and her gate faces into the ginnel where it happened. She were out last night getting her cat in and she saw it all happen. Just as you said. Only she were that frightened she just went in, quiet like, and didn't say owt."

"Brogan was full of bruises. How did he get those?"

"His cousin admitted Derek Brogan got in a fight with another lad , Jeffreys, – who does have a bit of form – and Brogan definitely come off worst. Apparently his cousin didn't want to grass on this Jeffreys as he thought he'd be next for a hiding if he did." Blaketon sighed. "Also, pathologist thinks the aneurysm might have started to rupture then and the second bang on t'head he had just finished the job. You had nowt to do wi' his death Nick."

Nick wearily leaned his head against the wall of the cell. It all seemed too much to take in.

"What happens now?"

"I'm taking you home, lad. That's what's happening now."

Nick seemed almost unable to take it in. He went mechanically through the formalities which had to be done but hardly reacted when Webb spoke to him. Out in the car he hardly spoke when Blaketon tried to talk to him and in the end the Sergeant left it alone sensing Nick needed a little time.

Kate was waiting by the gate as the car drew up. She ran to Nick as he got out of the car and flung her arms round him.

Blaketon watched, waited.

"Thank you," Kate mouthed to him.

He nodded.

He watched the pair walk slowly up to the police house, and shut the door behind them. He got back into the car and wearily just for a moment rested his head on the steering wheel.

Then he sat up, put the car into gear and set off back to Ashfordly.


	8. Chapter 8

"What happens now Sarge?" Phil Bellamy wanted to know. It was the following morning in Ashfordly Station. They hadn't discussed matters much last night everyone had been too drained by the recent events.

"Nick's coming back isn't he Sarge?" Ventress asked.

"Aye there's no reason for him not to," Blaketon said. "If he wants to of course." He glanced round as his phone started ringing and went off to answer it.

"You couldn't blame Nick for not wanting to come back," Phil said to Alf, "not after the way he's been treated. What if that Mrs Grant hadn't seen it all. Nick could have carried the can for summat he'd not done."

"Best off not thinking that road. It all came right in the end."

"Did it though Alf? If Nick doesn't come back, that's not working out right is it?" Phil sighed. "My bloody statement didn't help much."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, I said didn't I that I didn't notice bruising on Brogan in the alleyway."

"And you also said it was dark and he had his coat collar up and you couldn't see his face properly! Nick's not going to hold that against you, you daft beggar. Come on, another cup of tea?"

Kate and Nick were sat at the breakfast table. He hadn't eaten much and was quiet. She put a hand on his.

"Hey. You need to talk to me."

He shook his head. "Its fine, really." He ran a hand over his eyes.

"But its not though is it?"

"I owe Blaketon one don't I?"

Kate smiled. "He was determined you were innocent and they were going to prove it. Him and Alf and Phil."

"Its a pity more of them didn't think the same," Nick said quietly. "If this woman hadn't seen what she did, I'd still be locked up Kate. And I can't risk that happening again."

"Oh Nick –"

"Its fine really. I just need to think about things a bit. What happens now."

"There's no hurry. I'm sure no one's going to rush you."

"What do I do Kate?"

"Well the decision has to be yours love. It does. And to be honest I think we're having this discussion too soon. But if you really made me have an opinion well I think you should go back on duty Nick."

He stared at her. "I didn't think you would say that."

"No. I can't believe I'm saying it myself. But you are a good copper Nick and however you end your career, well, I just don't think it should end like this? And you know Oscar Blaketon he tried so hard for you and he had so much faith in you, I think you need to repay him that. And Phil and Alf. Phil especially. He's been blaming himself, Nick. Oscar Blaketon told me that."

"Blaming himself?"

"Oh the usual things – wishing he'd not left you to go after Brogan on your own, wishing he'd put in his statement he'd noticed he was bruised prior to you going after him – even though he didn't –"

"That wasn't Phil's fault he didn't look at Brogan long enough to see anything."

"I know, I know but he needs to hear that from you I think."

It seemed a long day at Ashfordly Station. Blaketon wanted to go over and see Nick but he'd heard nothing from either of the Rowans and he was really reluctant to go barging in. He kept picking up the phone to ring the police house at Aidensfield and then putting the phone down again.

Phil Bellamy was struggling to type a report. The typewriter was getting the better of him and he was losing patience with it.

The door to the station opened; he looked up. Nick was stood there.

"Nick! You should have said you were coming over!" Phil jumped out of his seat. "Here to see Blaketon?"

"Yeah. Need to sort a few things out, you know."

"Right. Well. Er –"

"Phil. You know I don't have any problem with you don't you?" Nick sighed. "Kate told me you felt to blame – I don't know why."

"It was that statement Nick, I –"

"You told the truth Phil. Nothing more nothing less. How could you have seen anything in the dark, for a quick second? No one would have believed you if you'd said you had noticed anything. And that would have looked even worse for me."

Phil gave Nick a smile of pure relief. "Thanks Nick," he said, "it's a weight off my mind to have you say that."

"Nick?" Blaketon emerged into the duty room looking puzzled. "I wanted to come over to see you but, well, I didn't like to - thought yer might want some time on yer own. I didn't expect to see you here."

"I just wanted a word, Sarge, if that's all right."

"Of course it is. Come on."

They sat down in Blaketon's office. Blaketon waited, wishing he could read Nick's thoughts.

"I wanted to say thanks Sarge. Kate told me how hard you tried. All of you."

"We didn't doubt yer Nick. Not for a moment. However they tried to make it look."

"I'm grateful for that." Nick sighed. "I've spoken to Kate. She surprised me. She said she thought I should come back to the job."

"What do you think?"

Nick swallowed. "I thought I'd lost everything Sarge. Its going to take a while."

"We can give you time Nick."

Nick nodded.

"I feel I should come back. I think I owe it to you and the lads."

"You don't owe us owt Nick."

"I think I do Sarge," Nick said with a small smile. "We can see how it goes. I mean, I am in the clear? No disciplinary or –"

"No. Not at all. You've done nowt wrong lad." Blaketon held out his hand. Nick shook it. "You come back when you're ready. I'm sorry it happened, I am. If only that bloody woman had come forward sooner none of this need've happened."

"She sounds a bit vulnerable Sarge. I can't get angry with her though I know I should."

"Aye. Well, its worked out thank God and I'm glad you're giving it another shot Rowan. Now come on lets see if we can get a cup of tea out of Ventress. He does bugger all else."

Nick gave him a smile and followed him out of the office back to the duty room where the heavy cloud which had been hanging over it for the last forty eight hours was showing signs of finally letting some sunshine through. Maybe eventually things would get back to what they were. With time.


End file.
